Negan's number what?
by 217
Summary: Written for Negan smut week on Tumblr. This fic is rated M for smut! Sherry x Negan.


**A/N If you haven't read Stigmatic, the beginning of this isn't going to make much sense to you and I guess this is kind of a spoiler for it. Basically, Negan and Sherry in that fic don't bone. That's why he's so opposed to it in this one.** **I actually wrote this for Lupienne's birthday a few years ago, heh, so thank her.** **This is from Sherry's POV.**

* * *

"Amber, please," I beg.

"No way. I'm not doing that shit."

I let out a long sigh. "Fine."

"Who are you trying to get in shape for anyway? Negan," she scoffs, cackling as she leaves the parlor.

"No," I murmur. Who am I kidding? She knows. I made the foolish choice of confiding in her one night when I was piss drunk. She didn't say much. Some disgusted moan as I confessed my deranged attraction for him. I don't think that girl has a sexual bone in her body. Poor Mark. Okay, let's see… downward dog. This position looks simple enough. Next, some kind of plank thing. I'm not strong enough to hold up my own weight and fall.

The parlor door slams shut.

So much for serenity. I ignore him and keep trying the positions in this book. Could he be any louder?

He's left a trail of clothes and accessories on the floor, leading to the first lounge like bread crumbs. Jacket, gloves, his knife belt. Lucille drips fresh undead blood on the coffee table he's set her on. He's in a bad mood. We base it off whether or not he makes a sexual comment towards one of us. He slings mud everywhere when he presses his gigantic boots against the ledge of the table.

Mood or not, he looks good. **Really** fucking good. Especially because of how tense he is. His broad shoulders fill out his dingy white shirt nicely. Sometimes I seriously feel like a victim of Stockholm syndrome, but that's not fair to accuse him of. God he's dumb. My ass is right in plain view and he'd rather go over that stupid inventory list. Maybe I'm not as attractive as I think I am. I have a seat on my mat and let out a sigh. "Can I go see Dwight?" I twist around when he doesn't respond. "Well?

"What?" It breaks his concentration. "I don't care," he mumbles, flipping the page, focusing back again on that damn list.

I know you don't care. Man, I'm in a bad mood today, too. I spend over an hour getting ready. Guess I just wasn't feeling really confident though it's rather stupid because it's not even Dwight that I'm going through all this extra effort for. When I open the bathroom door, I wanted nothing more than that stupid bastard to suffer seeing what he passed up, but he was nowhere to be found. Just muddy footprints to his bedroom. Getting to Dwight's becomes more and more difficult every time. Oh, shit, it's Marshall. Why of all people do I have to run into him when I'm feeling my most unattractive?

"Hello, Ms. Sherry," his thick southern accent rolling off his tongue greets me.

The poor man hasn't even been here two weeks and I've already thought of every possible way to fuck him. Mostly during my baths. I overheard Connor tell Dwight one time that Marshall could probably satisfy a whale. I guess he saw Marshall in the shower or something. Now every time I talk to Marshall, that's all I can think of. "How are you this evening?" Besides well-endowed. Stop it, Sherry!

"Let me see you up to the parlor and make sure you get back alright."

I guess I'll never know. I take my sweet time walking back, curling my arm around his bicep. "You have any plans tonight?"

"Nothing worth mentioning."

"Nothing?"

"I'm rather dull."

"I find that hard to believe." I stop and bend over, fixing my heel. There's nothing wrong with it. I just wanted my cleavage to spill out. "I'm not busy, either."

His stoned expression is focused on the parlor door.

Damn. "Thank you, Marshall." I give him a kiss on the cheek.

Marshall seems confused by the gesture before turning around to leave.

Maybe I'll just go back inside and use the shower head. I wonder what his coarse facial hair would feel like between my legs. Oh my god, stop! I gather my composure, letting another minute pass before I try Dwight again. "It's me," I say, closing his door. I gasp and, for some reason, apologize.

Dwight stares back at me like a deer in head lights, his dick in his right hand. "Uh," he blushes, before putting himself away. "I, uh, didn't know you'd be able to get away."

I fold my arms, looking away from him completely disgusted. "Like it would have made a difference. You seemed to be enjoying yourself a lot more than when you're with me."

"Are you really bitching at me for this? I'm dealing with this situation the best way I know how."

"So... you thought jerking off was a good way to deal with it?"

"Yeah. I did."

I see the filthy magazine on his desk, but still ask. "Were you thinking about me?"

"No."

"Fuck you."

He abruptly stands up. "But you won't. God knows I've fucking tried."

"Stop it! I'm doing this for us!"

"Bullshit. Tell me something, do you think of me when he's inside you?"

"You're- fuck," I cry. Dammit. I told myself I'd never cry because it's not fair to him. It will guilt trip him into apologizing to me and I don't want that. This is on me and this stupid choice I didn't even let him be a part of. He already has his arms around me, apologizing. "Don't," I whine.

"You didn't even let me try before you ran to him," he cries.

"I know, baby. I just thought this would be easier. For both of us."

He lets go of me and runs his hand through some of his hair.

I hate when things are tense like this. "Please talk to me."

"Do you remember when I'd have to go to Prudhoe Bay? I didn't care about the risk. I'd just think about how fucking happy you were when I brought home that check."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand. You'll never understand the sacrifices I made for us. Or the length I'd go through to keep you safe. You obviously still don't running to him."

"This was something I wanted to do, to take the burden off you. To help contribute!"

"Contribute? No, you took the easy way out. The word you're looking for is whore, Sherry."

"Is that really what you think?"

"Why do you fucking care what I think? You've never cared what I thought before."

"Y-"

"No! You didn't! As long as I kept my mouth shut and gave you enough to buy your little pearls and fucking knick-knacks, you didn't give two shits!"

I wanted to tell him everything, but if him hating me kept him safe, kept him from staying up all night worrying about my health well, then, I guess the truth hurts. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Do what you want. You're good at that."

"I love you, Dwight."

He goes over to his window and folds his arms.

"Okay, I guess I'll leave," I frown, quietly closing his door behind me.

"I love you, too," his muffled voice says.

I run as fast as I can up to the parlor, slamming the door so hard I don't know how I didn't break it. Oh, great. **Him**. Why is he back out here?

His smile is already twisted upward. "You look fucking pissed," he condescends me. "Dwight fall asleep on you?"

Wouldn't he love nothing more than me to admit impotence in Dwight? "Dwight is an asshole!" I cover my mouth, ashamed at my own words. No, I'm the asshole.

He insultingly laughs at me. "He not go down on you first or something?"

"Why is everything sex with you!?"

"Don't fucking yell at me because you're having problems with him! No wonder he won't fuck you."

Just perfect. Now I've let him get under my skin, too. "I need a fucking drink."

"You shouldn't swear, Sherry. Not very lady like."

"Maybe I'm not a lady." Great, this damn cork is stuck again. "Shit!" I slam the bottle back on the counter.

"Problem?"

"I just want a drink," I yell. I don't even want to drink. I just want an excuse not to feel like a piece of shit when I wake up for throwing myself at him like I have been the last few nights. For flirting with Marshall. For my darkest thoughts I can't share with Dwight because he doesn't satisfy me like those men do in my fantasies.

Negan's snark expression leaves his face before he trots over to me. Confident. Intimidating. His eyes never giving anything away.

It knots my stomach. I watch his forearms stiffen before the cork is pulled from the bottle. The noise startles me.

"Tense?" He gives me the cork.

"I could use some relief." I slowly wrap one finger at a time around his still holding the cork.

Now it's just a boyish laugh I get and he brushes my comment off.

I clasp his fingers tighter. "Drink with me." Joanna says it takes him forever to come when he's been drinking. Stamina is just what I need.

He leans over, getting right in my face. "Let. Go."

"Want me to grab something else?"

"I want you to get a fucking hold of yourself!" He rips his hand from mine, going back to the lounge.

I quickly down three shots, clenching a fourth in my hand. I push my eyebrows together. Fuck this. I stomp over to him. "You're full of shit. You could go into your room, but instead you stay in here?" I drop one of the straps on my camisole from my shoulder and back up against my dresser. "Well?"

That has his attention. He stands up, instantly appearing in front of me

Oh God. I let out a quick breath when he touches my arm. Finally. His rough fingertips against my skin make the muscles between my thighs tighten in excitement.

He quickly brushes his fingers up my arm, putting the strap back on my shoulder. "Go to bed." His words sting.

I throw my glass across the parlor as it shatters everywhere. "Fuck you."

He looks over his shoulder, returning my glare. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"I throw myself at you like a fool and you won't even take advantage of it?"

"Exactly, a fool, and you're going to feel pretty fucking stupid when you come to your senses."

"Right, because you've never made a mistake."

"No. I haven't, because I don't shit where I eat."

"I didn't realize you had such high standards when it came to pussy."

"As far as I'm concerned, you don't even have a, ugh, I can't even say it. You're drunk, Sherry, fuck off." He has a seat on the lounge.

"Not drunk enough I suppose." I wish I didn't throw that last glass. "Is it me?"

"Stop."

"You know how Marshall saved Dwight a few weeks back? I wanted to repay him, but he didn't really seem to care about my advances, either."

"Maybe we don't like desperate women."

"I hate you!"

"What-the-shit-ever. You think he'd really fuck you after seeing Dwight's face?"

"I guess I never thought about that."

"Thought about it? Sherry, what the fuck is wrong with you? Isn't this whole arrangement for Dwight? Here you're trying to fuck Marshall behind his back."

I let out a sigh. "I can't help it. I'm so horny and all I want is for Dwight's hand not to tremble when he sticks it down my pants."

He almost laughs.

"Aren't you curious what it would be like to be inside me?"

"I'm curious about a lot of things. Fucking you is at the bottom of that list."

"I think about it, a lot."

"You need to get it to-fucking-gether. Go rub one out and leave Marshall and me the hell out of it."

"Sometimes I'll listen on the other side of the bathroom door while I touch myself to you and Joanna."

"Sherry, stop! I don't want to fuck you!"

"Really? Because you look ready."

He adjusts the bulge in his pants.

I get down on my knees, prying his legs open.

"Stop it." He could push me away if he wanted to, but he's not.

I'll just take it as an indication to keep going. "Damn, you sure are playing hard to get."

"I ain't playing with you."

"Let me play with you."

"No!" He shoves my hand away.

I put it right back, angrily unzipping his pants. Is he really going to deny me? All of the sudden he's developed this conscience about who he fucks? Give me a fucking break.

His dark eyes carefully keep watch over me.

Look at him. Playing the victim so well. Perhaps a little too well as I pull his hardening cock from the fly of his boxers. I slowly ease them down, then stroke his arousal until he's completely hard.

"Sherry… this... is fucking wrong."

"I know." I slowly lick up his shaft before taking his length in my mouth. He's well-groomed and I'm grateful.

He lets out a deep moan.

I don't enjoy giving head but he's loud and responsive. Dwight always looks bored. Negan makes me feel like I could do no wrong. He's not as big as Dwight, but I won't dare tell him that and bruise his fragile ego that needs constant validation from Joanna. He isn't small by any means, but I guess considering his height, I just always expected more. However, his girth is impressive. Actually, it's damn impressive. I have seen his dick before, just never this engorged. My tongue moves around the head and I nip some at his soft foreskin.

His balls tighten.

"You like that?"

"Yes," he exhales, pushing the waistband of his boxers down more.

"Do you get this hard for the others?"

"No," he shamefully admits, before pushing me down by the back of my head.

I choke, but he doesn't care. I don't care either and keep going farther, faster.

He brushes my hair from my face so he can watch what I'm doing. "Fuck," he hisses through his teeth, then throws his head back.

I take it as an opportunity to pull my shirt off before mounting him. When I try to kiss him, he grabs me by the throat.

"I don't want to do this, Sherry."

I unhook my bra, setting it to the side.

He has always had a weakness for tits. His eyes gravitate towards them.

When I lean over to put them in his face, he tries to fight me again.

"Sherry, stop. Get off me." He grabs my shirt, covering the front of my chest.

I rip it from his hands, throwing it to the side. "Quit being a pussy and fuck me, Negan."

His demeanor shifts completely.

I swallow hard.

He picks me up, slamming me into the wall.

"Ow," I whine.

"Don't be a pussy, Sherry. This is what you wanted," he growls.

My blue jeans are stripped from me before I even realize it, his other hand holding me in place. I was too frightened by his strength to move. Too aroused as I watch this man turn into something I couldn't even fantasize about because I didn't know it existed. "Oh," I cry, digging my nails into his forearm.

"Who's the pussy now, Sherry?"

"Yeah, just like that," I beg. My mouth opens wide as my eyes roll upward. Holy shit.

He's not loud like he is with the other girls. Instead, he just holds his breath, staring at my breasts.

I think he's ashamed of fucking me. I should be ashamed he's fucking me, but I'm not. Especially every time I feel him push upward into me. "Shit," I moan, holding him by his broad neck. Look at me, dammit!

He turns and sets me on my dresser.

I bite my lip feeling more of his wide girth.

He's aggressive, assertive. He wasn't making love to me or any of that bullshit Dwight did.

I feel empowered. It's just what I need. I press my hands to the dresser and push back against him.

"Are you fucking close?"

"Not even close," I lie. I could have come right then, but I don't want it to end.

He groans, pulling out of me. It was like his dick grew another inch. "Go to the lounge."

It made my stomach jump. I've heard that line so many times. Never did I think I'd be the one he's speaking to. I find myself a little hesitant. What is he going to do to me?

He reaches back and gives me a hard smack on my ass. "Hurry up."

I've never been spanked before. It's belittling in every way, but I love it. I assume he wants to fuck me from behind, so I grab the cold wood trim and brace myself for his thick cock. "Oh," I cry, when I feel the wet heat of his tongue. Turns out this mouth of his is good for something else besides irritating me. I moan as he licks torturously slow. I'm sure my nails will leave impressions in the wood.

He's humming while he does it, though it's barely audible.

It's almost embarrassing how wet I am as his lips slide across mine. I wait patiently for one of his fingers, but instead I get his tongue inside me. I grant him a moan with that.

He chuckles before his tongue returns to my hardening peak.

Fuck!

He knows exactly what he's doing.

I'm riding his delicious mouth, ready to explode. Will he be upset if I come this way?

"Finger yourself."

I reach between my legs, starting to turn my fingers clockwise.

He forcefully claims me.

I let out a cry, stilling my fingers. It doesn't last but for a few seconds, before he pulls out and gets back on his knees again. If I could speak, I would. Instead he gets a yell before I find my blinding release. I grind hard against the bastards face, hoping to suffocate him. "Fuck, fuck!" He laughs, but I don't care because the vibration of his deep voice feels good. I sink down and look over my shoulder at him as I try to catch my breath. I have never wanted him more than I do right now. I lean over, ready to lick him clean like I've seen Rachel do.

"No." He pushes me back, wiping me off on the crook of his elbow.

I eye my arousal on his tanned skin.

"Anything else, or do you just want me to fuck you until you can't move?"

"You're that confident?"

"Yes. You're wasting time, unless you want an audience to watch you."

Oh, shit! They'll be back any minute. "Take me to your room."

"You know my rules."

"Fuck your rules."

He grabs the back of my head, forcing himself in my mouth. "Any other requests you care to muffle over my cock that will be denied?"

I could taste myself on him and it makes me gag. Now I'm glad I didn't lick his face.

"Don't be a fucking prude, Sherry," he grins when he sees how disgusted I am.

Why does his hostile filthy mouth turn me on so much?

He wipes his precome on my cheeks, snickering while he does it. "I do like that look on your face right now." He traces his head on my bottom lip. "You've become my little come slut, haven't you?"

"Ye-" I'm silenced by his ridged cock. It wasn't a question.

He pulls out, pushing my head down some.

I extend my tongue out against the smooth flesh.

He jerks off while I do it.

It's offensive, like my mouth isn't as good as his hand. I'm stuck doing the bitch job of licking his balls. I shove his hand to the side and swallow him all the way to the hilt.

He grunts, putting his hand where my mouth was, massaging his balls and only stopping to slap them against my chin.

Surely he doesn't want to come this way? "Sit down."

"Fuck off, Sherry."

I haul off and slap that smart mouth of his.

He looks at me almost terrified. "What the fuck?" he whines.

"I said have a seat." I mount him as soon as he sits down, then slap him again for my own personal amusement.

His angry yell turns into a moan.

I ease down, slower and slower. Teasing him like he did me. I love all his little facial spasms. They reveal everything he won't.

"Don't stop."

My thighs quickly start to burn. I pull his shirt off as a distraction from my fatigue. He has the best physique I have ever seen. I thought I was doing the work, until he becomes bored and starts moving me faster. I whimper feeling him deep inside of me, filling every. "Oh, God," I pant.

"It's Negan."

The arrogant prick. Though he has every right. I'm saying, thinking, doing things that would never cross my mind. I can't take any more! This dizzying feeling fills me and I scream his name. Tears uncontrollably well up in my eyes. "Oh, yeah, oh fuck," I cry, grinding against him violently.

Now he lets me do all the work as his hands are tucked behind his head and he's enjoying watching me lose my fucking mind. "Goddamn, Sherry."

I throw my head back, stilling my hips. "Shit," I yell, catching my breath.

"Well that was... interesting."

"Interesting? Fuck you, did you come?"

"Nope," he grins devilishly. "On your knees, on the lounge."

Oh, no.

He gets up, standing behind me.

I wait for another forceful entry.

"Turn around."

When I face him, he slips himself between my breasts. I hold them together encasing his dick tightly.

He grabs my hair in this make shift pony tail as he starts to thrust his hips back and forth.

This isn't too bad. I don't know why the others don't like this. It's no effort at all and he seems to be enjoying this more than getting head. I try and lick him every time he pokes out.

"Stop," he exhales. "Just wait for it."

Wait for what? Oh, God. Now I see why they don't like it. Please don't get this shit in my hair. I move my eyes up to his.

He has the most violent expression on his face, like he's killing undead.

I watch the veins in his neck start to surface. What if he passes out? Why is he so angry? "Are you okay?"

"Shut up," he grunts, before letting out a whine. He grits his teeth and explodes all over my chest. The things that come out of his mouth were almost comical.

I watch his face twist with pleasure. It is so fucking hot.

His left eyebrow peaks upward and his bottom lip twitches.

I want to play with myself as I watch him come. Now I know what to think about in the shower later.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah, that's right, baby, come for me." I hope the girls walk in right now. Watching in shock as they see how aroused he is.

He's never this loud with them.

I watch until no more spills out and find myself wishing this wasn't it.

"Fuck me."

I lean back against the lounge, wearing the adultery across my chest. I should feel regretful about the things we've done, but I don't.

He plops himself down next to me, putting his arms over the back of the lounge. His eyes are shut as his eyebrows knit together.

I wait for his approval, something to come from his mouth, but he doesn't utter a sound. Just heavy sharp breaths. Maybe he's regretful? I can't even move, but I know I have to because I won't give him the satisfaction of boasting about it.

He's still hard as come drips out of his swollen cock.

I'd fuck him again if it didn't seem so desperate.

"You gonna clean me up?"

I'm rather disappointed by his choice of words. Like the sex was as meaningless with me as it is with them. "You didn't clean me up." Jerk! Ugh, I want to scream that in his face.

"Come put those tits in my face and I'll lick them clean."

"You'd… really do that?"

"It's just come, but suit yourself. Get me a towel or somethi-"

I straddle him without another thought, but it wasn't to get clean.

He won't let me lower my hips. "You're sure?"

"Yes," I pant. Now let me fuck you.

He coats his fingers with his come, before easing two inside me.

Oh!

He lets out the most menacing laugh I have ever heard.

"You're so sick."

"You fucking love it."

"Yes," I moan loudly, moving up and down on his fingers. I watch his long tongue lap up the mess he made. Oh my God, I have never been this fucking turned on before. This is the kinkiest thing I have ever done, and he's right. I love it. His thick fingers push his excitement up into me. It's so wrong. It's so good. Damn him. I have to fight not to come.

His fingers pumping back and forth, his thumb pressed hard on my clit, his tongue flicking my nipple, his seed pushing deep up inside me.

I've become a whore for it. I want to taste it. I drop my head and lick up some on my breast.

That has his attention. His full attention. Out come his fingers as they are replaced by something better.

"Fuck," I cry.

I'm forced to the lounge as he braces the back of it with one hand, the other on my hip.

Again?

His lip curls upward like a Cheshire cat. He knows exactly what I'm thinking and I get an evil cackle before he thrusts deep inside.

"Yeah," I yell, arching my back.

It's like the both of us are possessed. Our hands are all over each other.

He leaves red teeth marks on my breasts and neck.

My hands move up his long torso. I brush his nipples, getting a moan from it. "Really? That turns you on?"

"Fuck you, Sherry," he grunts.

I slap him, choke him, and degrade him. I love it.

"Tell me you want my come in that filthy mouth."

"Inside me."

"No."

I grab his hips. "Yes. Now. I want to feel it."

He fights me.

"Do it," I yell.

His will is weak.

I feel him shoot inside me. It sends me over the edge as I come hard around him. Milking his seed from him. "Negan," I cry. I reach up and grab the arm rest, pushing back on him.

"Yeah, fuck," he moans, slapping my ass. Even though he's a selfish prick, he waits for me to finish.

I close my eyes, gasping for another breath. Maybe it was a combination of everything, but that was the best sex I've ever had.

He gives me a few more swats on the ass and laughs before pulling out of me.

I can't even put up a fight. Not that I want to.

He drags his tongue lengthwise, lapping up what has spilled out.

My stomach tightens. Stop! Please! I can't take anymore.

"I'll let you decide what to do with the rest."

I've never wanted to come from something someone has said to me, but this almost did it. I lay back on the lounge. I'd be embarrassed to be spread out like this of I wasn't so euphoric.

"That's a good girl." He brushes his thumb a few times against my clit. "You really think I'm going to let you walk away from this?"

Goddamn him!

He pulls up his pants, looking for his shirt.

I think I'm on it.

"Ask Dwight how my dick tastes." He's proud of himself with that one. "You can go cuddle with him now," he scoffs.

Oh, Negan, one day you'll learn to keep that arrogant mouth shut. I stand up, heading for the bathroom. If he wants to play games, we'll play games. "I think I'll see if Dwight wants some make up sex after my shower." That's the look I wanted. He just can't wrap his brain around how he didn't satisfy me.

"But-"

"Sorry for calling you Marshall."

"You didn't call me Marshall-"

I shut the bathroom door before he can speak any further.

"Sherry," he knocks.

I flip on the shower to drown him and my laughter out. Yes. Squirm you bastard.


End file.
